Chapter Text
L sat in the back seat of a car in his usual crouched position, a thumb to his mouth as he contemplated the eerily familiar scenery passing by.
The reminiscent English countryside surrounded the car in all directions, sprawling into miles of frozen grass which stretched far into the distance before collapsing off the edge of the world. Trees and foliage scattered the agrarian scenery, condensing into a dizzying array of rustic blurs as the car passed them. Overhead, the sun was setting, casting a vibrant hue through the branches with an intensity L found nauseating yet homely - the glowing sunset a fitting indication of an ending era.
It was by the flip of a coin.
Winning against Kira, that is. Sheer unadulterated fortune let him win the competition.
When L along with the taskforce took possession of the Death Note from Higuchi and Light reached out to grab it, L instinctively knew it would be an ill fated action. Every inch of his second nature told him that Light should not under any circumstances be permitted to touch the notebook and bear witness to the god of death which stood before them.
Light swore he was being paranoid; the taskforce agreed. With no other option readily available to him, L was inclined to agree to a proposition Light had initially suggested only as a callow joke: Matsuda would flip a five-yen coin he had in his wallet to determine the outcome of their disagreement.
Heads, L would have full undisputed authority to decide if Light made physical contact with the Death Note. As a fail-safe, if L lost his life before he granted Light permission, the decision making would not be reallocated to the others but would instead deprive Light of the ability to make physical contact with the notebook permanently.
Tails, Light would be permitted to inspect the Death Note just as every other member of the taskforce could. His access would exist on equal terms to all including L himself.
The trees grew sparser as the pastoral country morphed into varying man-made structures. Older buildings preserving burdensome histories combined with modern buildings, unencumbered by the past and holding the future of this new post-Kira era within their constitutions.
The gothic cathedral loomed over all, casting divine providence over the town. L could feel the cathedral before he could see it. Knowledge of its presence pulsed a dreading sickness deep through his body, resurrecting childhood fears and unveiling current afflictions. Knowing everything he knew now, the cathedral adopted an even more impressive stature. A monument for the innocent superstitions of his youth, it was now an unrelentingly agonising reminder of the vast plain of difference between himself and the figures of another realm that no living person had any business knowing of.
Needless to say, L won the coin flip.
Matsuda informed them that the coin landed on heads, unwittingly indicating that Light’s plans had gone awry. Light never regained his memories, providing L with the valuable time necessary to conduct the experiments essential to debunking the last rules of the Death Note. As the facts of the case slid into place, he made an agreement with Rem. Deducing that Rem had no love for Light but much for Misa, he offered to permit Misa to continue her daily life if Rem spared L and allowed him to place Light in captivity.
There had been a fifty-fifty chance of him living and dying. It was deeply unsettling for him; he’d been so set at winning a game of wits and it was somewhat devastating on an intellectual level to know that in the end it came down to chance. The emotional elements of the case only made the conclusion more unsatisfying.
Some of the taskforce remained unconvinced with L’s conclusion. The remaining task force members’ doubts were silenced when L, finally letting Light touch the Death Note, brought Kira to the surface. Kira, knowing his plan had been foiled, broke down in screaming laughter. The vivid breathing proof of Light's guilt broke the spirits of everyone in the room, most of all Light’s father and - though he would never confess it - L himself.
It had been so many years since he he’d seen Winchester. Only the direst circumstances could possibly have compelled him to pass through the snapshots of his childhood again. And those circumstances, he believed, were met.
L was distracted from his thoughts as the car slowly rolled through the town centre, passing by traditional buildings now owned by new corporations which didn’t even exist when he was a young child. L took his thumb away from his mouth to point at a building, which displayed a Tesco sign to say, “A Woolworth’s used to be there.”
“Yes, that’s right” Watari – or since they were back in Winchester, Wammy – replied.
“When I was a child, whenever you tried to limit my sweet supply to make me eat healthier, I used to take sweets from the pick a mix whenever I passed by. When I wanted to impress a boy I liked I took a handful of sweets and put them under his pillow. He must have been so confused,” L mused.
“Yes, you were a strange child. But I’m sure you’re a lot more grown up now,” Wammy said. L thought about the cupcake he had for breakfast and passively wondered if that was true.
L had taken some time off after the case, emotionally and intellectually spent. He spent weeks sitting in the same position, eating sweets with his eyes glued to the wall much to Watari’s alarm. Since Kira had been captured and ceased his killing spree, criminals felt emboldened to act freely again and crime rose dramatically. Despite the rising need for L to resume his place within the world's legal order, L couldn’t motivate himself to solve any of the cases which demanded his aid. Disappearing from the public eye, some news reporters began to predict that L and Kira had both lost their lives in a 'mutually assured destruction' situation of some kind.
When one day L was drinking coffee and looking at his laptop erratically, Watari had hoped he had finally returned to his old routines. But L was not solving cases. He had a higher priority.
L cast his eyes eagerly across the surroundings.
New shops. New buildings. New kids. So much had changed since he departed from this place. Although, not all changes were bad, he felt the need to remind himself. For one, Wammy's House ostensibly developed its formerly uncultivated surrounding lands to make way for exquisitely kept plants and an especially beautiful rose garden. The new kids which occupied these grounds were supposedly even more exquisite, filled with potential. He looked forward to seeing all of it with his own eyes to make his own judgement.
“Do you think the new children are strange too?” L enquired. “Smart children tend to be strange.”
“I’m not quite sure,” Wammy replied. “I haven't met many of the children myself to tell the truth. Although, it must be said that Roger does give the most colourful reports.”
L smirked, indeed he did.
Having faced such a strong possibility of death, L had become somewhat obsessed with his own mortality and decided it was finally time to choose a successor. Watari was somewhat disappointed that L was occupying himself with this rather then trying to return to his regular business, but he supposed it was better than L staring at a wall for months on end. And it wasn't like Watari had a vote in the situation anyhow, so he had no choice but to allow L to entertain himself.
L had narrowed the choices down to two potential successors a long time ago, but from that point he was abandoned at a complete standstill. Every time he thought of a reason why one should be his successor, he thought of another reason why the other should be his successor. It was an unmovable stalemate. Finally, he decided he would need to see them in person to make any decisive decisions.
There are certain characteristics that can not be gaged from files alone, no matter how exciting and colourful the reports on them were. And my god were they colourful: one of them read like the transcript of a child robot, the other like the rap sheet of a sociopath. No person is that simple, however. L knew he would need to find the humanity beneath the exterior in both of them to figure out how to proceed.
“Here we are.” Watari said, pulling into the driveway of the gated building, which still looked as grand as the day Wammy first brought L Lawliet to the steps of the orphanage. L stared with wide, dark eyes, determining that he would not leave until he was certain L would outlive him.